


to yearn

by aaronwarnerisabeautifulstorm



Series: you are my obsession [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Obsession, One-Sided Attraction, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, extremely creepy ardyn, thirsty ardyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:59:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9417530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaronwarnerisabeautifulstorm/pseuds/aaronwarnerisabeautifulstorm
Summary: "I think I found a flower in a field of weeds"The start of an addiction.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Quote in the summary was taken from the song Surrender by Billy Talent.

 

 

He looks beautiful in black, the dark color contrasting perfectly with the ivory color of his skin. He is gorgeous in the morning, half dressed and one socked, hair of gold ruffled and pointing in several different directions. He is a wet dream in shorts. He is a sin worrying his plump lower lip as he plays that stupid game on his phone. He is the sudden warmth in your navel, standing in boxer briefs and nothing else.

 

And he is painfully delicious when he looks at the royal brat with those eyes brimming with innocent affection that should be directd to you.

* * *

 

The first time you saw him, really saw him, it had been an accident.

 

Your mission: to observe the pathetic excuse of a King.

 

The outcome: not what you expected. 

 

Noctis had been entirely predictable. A useless heir, blessed with everything he could possibly desire and he still acted like he hadn’t grown a day over twelve. Pouted, scowled, demanded things as if he had the right, brooded all the time. 

 

The destiny of Insomnia rested on the shoulders of an immature teenager with too much time on his hands. Time that he wasted on stupid things like going to arcade centers, hanging with some random blond kid-whom admittedly possessed a nice smile-and when he was in the citadel did nothing of importance, talked about useless topics with Ignis Scientia and Gladiolus Amicitia, who were by a mile far more interesting than the young Prince of Lucis could ever hope to be, but still not engaging enough.

 

This was supposed to be your opposition? It was ridiculous to even think that Noctis- out of every one of the Kings that had ever ruled Lucis-seeing him as he was right now, would be the one to fulfill the prophecy. Even more laughable, he was the chosen one foretold for centuries, the favorite of The Astrals. The reason why you were rejected by the Gods. For this snot covered brat who couldn’t do anything on his own.

 

It was pitiful. It made you mad as hell. The shame knew no boundaries as the days went by and Noctis proved himself to be barely above average, just the typical fifteen year old living his unremarkable life with the nice little touch of being the son of the King of Lucis. Otherwise, there was not much to see.

 

From the palace to school, to the arcade, to the cinema, back to the palace. Start a new day and repeat the process all over.

 

Disregarding the thrill of spying the enemy under their unsuspecting noses, blissfully ignorant of the fact that you managed to break through such sophisticated security system, you began to get bored. It was no fun for you if the victory was this easy. You wanted the challenge you had been waiting for since your fall from grace with The Astrals; what you got instead was a group of kids messing around and an incredibly unaware king. 

 

Well, that was to be expected, considering how King Regis’s sole occupation consisted of pampering his son.

 

Your only consolation amongst the mass of boring, uninteresting individuals was that dimpled smile Noctis’s friend would let out at the strangest of times. More often than not, that was what you would end up focusing your attention on, rather than Noctis’s annoying mannerisms. The blond had no filter, was loud and at times obnoxious, telling bad jokes, and acting way too hyper than what one would consider normal. Had it been anybody else, you would have probably not given them a second look. That kind of behavior, that stereotypical’ joker wannabe’ attitude he had turned on at all times, repulsed you immensely. 

 

Yet, the more you watched Noctis and therefore observed the blond, the more you came to get used to it.

 

You got used to his spontaneous laughter, his uncivilized way of speaking, the map of dots on his rosy cheeks. His erratic train of thoughts, as he flew from a topic of conversation to a whole different one and then back to the first. His delighted expression when he found something worthy of taking a picture, his cheap camera held in his hands, was not so bad to see. And his name, coming out of your mouth (Prompto Argentum. Lips press together to form the ‘p’ and ‘r’ and ‘m’. Lips open in wonder of what the ‘o’ sounds like. Tongue flicks the behind of the frontal teeth. P-R-O-M-P-T-O), felt like a drop of honey. 

 

It started like that, innocent enough.

 

The laughing blond in his school uniform and your strange fixation with the teenager. It was only natural when you began tailing him too. The cheap reasoning was that you needed to know everything that could give you an advantage point over Noctis, not that you needed any more but still. You had to.

 

The first step was following the blond to his working place, fact you heard from one of his many pointless conversations with the prince.

 

 You merely watched from afar.  Saw him get inside, talk with his coworkers, smile. Always smile.

 

The prince wasn’t even with him but there you were, watching from the outside. That light you had not noticed at first now seemed impossible to ignore. He was a flame, burning bright and strong amidst a sea of darkness.  No matter the work he had to do, how arduous, how tiring, he’d do it with a grin from ear to ear-greet the customers as if he would a dear old friend and engage them in casual, mindless conversation that somehow felt endearing to you.

 

Two days passed like that. In the morning you stalked Noctis, in the afternoon you traced Prompto’s steps to his workplace.

 

On the third day of simply watching, curiosity got the best of you.

 

Prompto’s job of the week was as a barista in a small coffee shop near the street where he lived. It was too easy, really, to disguise yourself as no one of importance and slip inside the shop, your eyes never straying from your objective who was wiping the counter with a very used rag. You walked towards him and felt a foreign feeling inside you, standing so close to the one you had only seen from afar. Prompto was within touching distance, if you reached out a hand maybe-

 

The blond looked up. A pair of entrancing azure eyes met your frozen stare. From up close, the numerous freckles adorning that happy face were more noticeable. His cheekbones were colored an interesting shade of pink and full lips parted in a toothed smile.

 

“Hello and welcome to <insert coffee shop name you couldn’t care less about>. My name is Prompto Argentum” he said in that mellow voice of his “What would you like to order in this fine day?”

 

He is too cheesy, your mind screamed internally. Too young, too boyish, too immature, too common, too simpleminded. What was it about him that had you at odds with yourself? You wondered this while battling against the urge to tell him you’d like to order him in this indeed fine day.

 

“One Altissian Roast, please” was what you actually said, staring at the freckled hands on the counter, one still holding the used rag.

 

He had beautiful fingers, at least. He had the fingers of an artist, meant to create what regular fingers could not. Maybe, just maybe the photos you had assumed were at most half assed weren’t so bad after all if they had been taken with these hands.

 

Unaware of your uncanny attention, Prompto instead of preparing your order like you expected he would do, raised both blond eyebrows in surprise. His jaw fell open comically “You-do you actually like that thing? Man, kudos to you. It’s way too strong for me, tried it once and almost threw up”

 

“Not vanilla enough for you, you mean?” the line came smoothly out of your lips, entirely spontaneous and natural, just like the smirk that accompanied it.

 

Prompto’s blood rushed to his face and a blush spread across his cheeks, ears and neck, disappearing under the collar of his unflattering shirt.

 

“I..er…No, that’s not it!” he stuttered, shook his hands in the air and it was a special sort of charming that only befitted him “You know what? Nevermind. Altissian Roast it is”

 

The boy, not quite a man yet, began working hurriedly. His back was turned on you and your eyes burned holes on the slender road of his neck. On the red tips of his ears. On the skinny but slightly muscled arms. And on-

 

Prompto turned to face you again, the blush fixed on his features. A fine layer of sweat made his skin look particularly bright and it made you curious as to why it was there. When you noticed his normally straightforward gaze avoiding yours, was that a thought occurred to you. Apparently, the golden boy was not as confident as he’d like everyone to believe. Perhaps, he was shy. Perhaps, he couldn’t deal well with strangers. Perhaps, there were actual skeletons hidden inside his closet.

 

How interesting.

 

The boy, in a very sheepish manner, offered you the hot drink and laughed awkwardly “Here’s your coffee” It was almost a murmur, If the shop hadn’t been empty you wouldn’t have heard him at all. 

 

Your hand met his halfway to grab the cup.

 

And when your fingers touched his a spark ran over your body from the area of contact, traveled up your arm, to your brain where the stimulus transformed in sharp heat. In a feeling you weren’t able to name.  You felt a tremor, an ache, a realization you didn’t know you had been looking for; the three manifested themselves strongly and in wonder, hazel eyes met the source of this sudden turmoil. 

 

The boy’s hand frozen in the air because your own had taken a hold of it, sinking your fingers in the soft flesh. His distraught expression: beautiful chiseled face still adorned in residues of baby fat staring back at you in confusion and a touch of unknown fear. The hot coffee that had spilled on your clothes and the floor, dripping and dripping-you paid it no mind; it didn’t bother you a bit. Not like this insignificant creature bothered you so.

 

“E-excuse me, sir?” said the pink, chapped lips in the timid voice of a student. A strong unexplored desire rose at that, and you had the urge to tear in the mellow mouth, paint it in the color of passion and life.

 

He’s a child, your mind yelled. He’s fifteen years old.

 

Prompto Argentum was an innocent fifteen year old boy who still went to school and had probably never touched himself.

 

And you wanted to push, and claw, and throw him over that counter and-

 

Shatter that pureness.

 

You understood then, as a forgotten warmth simmered in your belly, as you let go of that delicious hand, as you left the young boy staring confusedly after your retreating figure. You understood why you wanted him, why you pursued him, why you observed him as if everything he did was essential. He was pure, he was light. You were darkness incarnate in bone and mortal flesh.

 

And it’s a well known fact that the darkness will always strive to swallow the light in its hungry jaws.

 

 

* * *

 

After that time, it continued to worsen. You never dared to get too close again in fear of temptation proving to be too mighty a foe, even for yourself.

 

Days, weeks went by and you had no excuse to justify why you kept traveling to Insomnia just to catch a peek of a flushed Prompto working at different part time jobs every time. You learned later it was because he couldn’t afford both a private school and his photography lessons. 

 

You yearned from afar, yearned for what you had never dared to yearn for in two thousand years of suffering and plotting.

 

While you did that, you also began to discover new things. Like how Prompto would shine his brightest whenever he was by the inept Noctis’s side. The curious fond look he would direct in the prince’s direction and how he flushed prettily at the other boy’s veiled compliments. It was ridiculous. It was preposterous. It was insanely maddening, having to see the prince flirting shamelessly with the blond yet doing nothing about it. What you had thought at first to be normal interactions between friends turned out to be so much more.

 

Noctis and Prompto, sitting together at the entrance of the arcade center, their hands brushing occasionally. Their handsy gestures that left them both blushing and laughing. Hugs and moments shared that made you turn green in envy.

 

You stood, looking in from the outside, nails digging sharply on the inside of your palms, and mentally ushered Noctis to grow faster. 

 

So you could, at last, claim what was yours.

* * *

You followed him home. Camouflaged in shadows, you followed the clueless boy, slipped right behind him through the front door. Saw him do his usual routine: leave his backpack on the floor by the entrance with his shoes, go to the kitchen to have a glass of water, sit on the couch-remote in hand-to watch TV.

 

His every move and every gesture, you knew by heart now.

 

And then, door wide open, you saw him undress in his room.  He disposed of his jacket first, then the tie and shirt. Belt unfastened, the pants fell soundly to the floor, pooling at his socked feet and your breath got stuck in your chest.

 

Prompto Argentum was breathtaking.

 

He was all long limbs and slim torso, a hint of a v-line and the silhouette of a six-pack in the process of forming, pink nipples standing erect in the cool air of the apartment and fine blond hair on his legs and the happy trail leading to the treasure hidden under those briefs that clung marvelously to the shape of his butt.

 

You eyes drank his figure thirstily, desiring for more than just watching. Wanting it all. The desire of the conqueror faced at the prospect of conquering promised land. Of owning every dip and valley of that still growing body, of pressing your fingers to the jut of his hipbones until purple finger marks were imprinted in sign of ownership.

 

The voice in your head screaming about Prompto being too young had died a long time ago. Your wants overcame your judgment.

 

It was not enough.

 

You wanted more.

 

As if to complete the perfect picture he was unknowingly composing, the boy in a sudden move pulled the wristband he always wore. What you saw then and there was effortlessly the most beatiful sight you could have ever dreamed of beause on that pale wrist where blue and green veins could be seen, was also the proof that meeting Prompto had not been a coincidence.

 

This was fated. The reunion of the masterpiece and his creator at last, it was fated from a long time ago. You knew as the blond teenager scratched absentmindedly, using too much strenght, the black barcode marring the white canvas that was his skin.

 

Perfect, beautiful. Your own creation, made only for your eyes to see and for you only to have.

 

Hours later, in the dead of night, you walked to his bedside and grabbed gently that wrist which belonged to you, pressed a twisted promise of longing to it and felt his heartbeat thrumming under your mouth.

 

"Soon" you whispered.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Prompto woke up with a strange sense of foreboding plaguing his subconscious and while he took a bath before heading to school, he scrubbed harshly in revulsion at his tainted wrist.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and drop by my other fic Angels Carried Us Away if you want :) Chapter 6 is up!!


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